


It's always a sad story...

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Mobsters, Angst and Porn, Angst and Romance, Gangster!Gavin, M/M, Romance, Snuff? maybe, Student!Connor, Tragic Romance, Whump, You Have Been Warned, you're gonna need a drink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: Gavin's discovery of Connor's betrayal has led him to learn a hard lesson about missing opportunities, confessing love, and earning and losing someone's loyalty.Connor's discovery of Gavin's truth has led him to an untimely end.Lieutenant Hank Anderson grieves. And drinks.





	It's always a sad story...

**Author's Note:**

> You've been warned. that's all.
> 
> good luck, I've got hugs, tissues, etc at the end down there.
> 
> Side note, for some reason, my work documents the day I started this all sounded like they were a script for a bad mobster movie so… i made this?  
> seriously, debt collector lawyers will high key be sounding like they’re about to serve you with a crowbar, not a lawsuit. And so of course, this merited super angsty pr0n. it was the only logical course of action. see if you can guess which lines came from my work documents today! guess one right, get a sneak peak from a WIP of mine of your choice. 
> 
> bon voyage...

He can’t breathe, but it isn’t because he’s choking or something, although there is a part of the rope that comes around his neck before it ties to the back to the chair, discouraging any squirming or attempts to escape. Rope is also biting into the sensitive skin of his wrists, and he uses the pain there to make him inhale, exhale. His blood is roaring in his ears, and that sends his heart pounding even harder because he is worried that he won’t hear the man’s light, measured footsteps over the sound of his own heart.

Inhale. Exhale. No, he’s not choking. He’s up shit creek, which is worse.

He needs a plan. The rope around his wrists tugs directly on the one around his neck. He’ll only pass out if he struggles from that. He tried his feet next, but no luck — rope bites into his ankles, too. His feet are bare

He wants call out for help, but he already knows that is useless because of the neat monkey’s paw knot shoved between his teeth and tied too tightly behind his head--Reed always loved knots and sailing.

He never should have crossed Reed. It was a mistake telling Lieutenant Anderson what he knew. The truth was, he’d always admired Gavin Reed— cunning, ruthless, intelligent, driven, blunt. Rich. Beautiful. 

He’d been drawn in like a moth to a flame. That light came with a price. Reed was kind to him. Took him sailing, brought him to all his functions, sent him girls for his brother’s bachelor party, introduced him to his wealthy connections—a friend of his deceased brother’s that helped him get into law school, a business connection that he found out later was tied to black-market goods and trafficking anything from guns to  _ people. _

Reed had said things into his ear, raised the hairs on the back of his neck, made him blush to the roots of his hair, stood too close but left too soon, gazed at him deeply, thoughtfully, reached out as if to touch him but then never did.

Connor fell like an idiot. 

It wasn’t until he met Anderson that he realized the truth. Reed did it all on purpose, to keep him close, keep him loyal. To keep his true business and identity hidden. He finally saw what Reed was — finally saw what he could be capable of. Anderson asked him,  _ begged _ him, to help him reveal what Reed really was. Crushed an heartbroken, he did everything Anderson said.

But Anderson was a copper, and Reed’s first rule was to never talk to coppers.

That is how he found himself dragged out of his apartment in the middle of the night wearing nothing but silk pajama pants, stuffed in a trunk, and now tied to a chair.

He knows he’ll die here now. Reed won’t forgive him for this.

He permits himself a single tear for how he thought his life would be, and then he tries to focus on getting away again. He has to try. He can’t give up.

“You look pretty when you struggle,” whispers a voice into his ear. “The tighter you make that rope around your neck, the more you gasp for air, the redder your face gets… the more you make me want consider leaving you a vegetable instead.”

Connor freezes. God, that should be terrifying. It should make his blood run cold in fear. It doesn’t. Instead, it makes him uncomfortably warm.

“You know why we’re here. I want to hear you say it.”

Connor closes his eyes. The rope around his face loosens, and he can spit the knot out. He whispers hoarsely, “I’m sorry. I should never have said anything to Lieutenant Anderson. I should have stayed away.”

“Hmm.” Reed finally backs away from his ear, choosing to pace in front of him again. “You know, that’s not why I’m disappointed in you, Connor. I’m disappointed because you seemed like someone I could trust.  _ You _ supposedly  _ love _ me. Isn’t that true?” 

Connor pinks, his eyes wide open now. “I…”

“Oh, don’t deny it. I don’t want you to lie to me, Connor.” There’s a knife in his hand now. The shiny silver of it glints in the dimness.

Connor sucks in a sharp breath when the tip of it digs into his chin, forcing him to look up and meet Reed’s eyes.

“I want you to tell me everything you told Anderson. If you lie to me, I’m going to carve you up and when I'm done, I’m going to butcher everyone you ever loved.”

“Reed,  _ please…” _

“Start. Talking.”

Connor swallows. “I told him about the people you introduced me to… the import people… and I told him about the shipment next week, and I told him about Wilson and the river. I told him about Phillips and why you sent—please don’t hurt my brother.”

Reed nods. His face is heavy, as if he looks sad. “Whose case was he working?” Connor hesitates to answer, but Reed is in his face, his fingers threading into his hair and yanking back until Connor winces, sucking in a painful gasp. “ _ Give me the name.” _

“It was the Phillips case,” Connor whispers. “Emma Phillips is still alive but both parents are dead. She’s just a little girl—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Reed snaps, letting go of his hair and turning away. Then he relents. “I’ll let the cop know that I’ll leave her alive because you asked.”

The  _ before you die _ was loud enough even though it was unspoken. 

Connor hangs his head. He wants to see beautiful, carefree Reed, not this frightening, soulless, calculating shell. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again.

“They all have a story,” Reed muses, mostly to himself. “It’s always a sad story. What was his? Tell me what the copper said to make you tell him.”

“He… told me that your company was a shell. He told me that he needed help proving that you were the one that sent Phillips to meet the smugglers and…” Connor takes another slow breath. “He told me he couldn’t let Emma get hurt. He… sees his son in her, I think. His son died years ago in a car accident.”

“There it is,” Reed said ruefully. “What else did he tell you? He told you about my business and he told you about the Phillips. Did he show you how they looked dead?”

Connor nods. “Yes. And…”

“And?”

“And he showed me pictures of you with the chinese mob girl, Tina Chen. You said she was just your friend but you...you took her with you and...”

Reed snorts. “You cracked when he showed you the pictures of me fucking the chinese girl? You idiot. That picture is from years ago. You betrayed me because of jealousy?”

Silence.

Connor can hardly believe his ears. It was from years ago? He doesn't understand.

“Yeah,” Reed snorts. “That picture isn't even from here. I fucked her in Vegas 6 years ago. It was the smartest move for me in order to negotiate turf with the Chinese Triads. They needed the guns. I needed the connects. Fucking Eli kept pissing them off instead of settling fucking turf. I fixed that, though. We both wanted a bit of mutual respect. We made a good deal.”

“I… oh.”

“What’d you think that cops don't lie? That asshole cop tricked you to get to me.” He sighs, but oddly, Connor’s heart is racing in pure elation. His dick is even hopeful now, at the idea that Reed is single still.

Of course Reed notices. He notices everything. “That made you happy.” Reed smiles. “I’m glad it did. It’s the last time you will be.” His hand gently brushes hairs away from Connor’s forehead. “You’re lucky that you’re the Boss’s toy,” he murmurs, and Connor can help the thrill that shrieks through him despite his circumstances. “That’s what the guys call you, did you know that? Some of them have had girlfriends or boyfriends--angry, jealous ones that go off and run their mouths like you did. The guys, they weren’t even sad to butcher them and put them right here in this incinerator,” Reed motions behind him, “never to be seen or heard from again.”

Connor shakes.

“Luckily for you, I am sad for you. I’m also the boss which means that I get to do whatever the fuck I want. What I want is to give you a choice.”

“I don’t care how you do it,” Connor interrupts, nauseous. “I don’t care how you k-kill me, just… get on with it.”

“The choice is simple. You’ll have your wish. Spend one night with me, Connor. Have the night of your life and I promise, I’ll make it good—the best you ever had. And when we finish, I’ll make it easy for you, too. And you, like those others, will simply vanish.” His voice is sultry now, like honey mixed with smoke and poison but for his right ear. “Or, don’t. I’ll kill you here and now, and your brother and your precious copper can bury whatever they can find of your corpse.”

Connor closes his eyes. “I want you to send my body home,” he whispers. He knows he’s in for a world of pain, but whatever happens now, he can’t leave his brother hanging, without knowing if he’ll ever see Connor again, just because he wants his crush to literally fuck him into oblivion. Connor has a tendency to fall for boys that are way too complicated for him, and he always thought that would be the death of him.

He regrets ever knowing or loving Gavin Reed.

He waits for that shiny knife in Reed’s hand, for a crowbar, for a needle… something, anything to let him know that this is the beginning of the end.

“What? Well… this is strictly business, as far as I’m concerned. Well, I’m busy.Tell him Thursday. Yeah. I’m about to clean it up.” Reed hangs up his random phone call— _ do mobsters always take phone calls at the stupidest hours of the morning? _ —and Connor breathes through his nose to keep his terror at bay. “You’d rather me hurt you because you want them to find your body. Why? Your brother?” Connor nods, and Reed tilts his head. “What’s special about your brother?”

“He doesn’t have to be special. He’s my brother.”

“I killed mine, you know. In my defense, Eli was an asshole and he was running the family name into the ground. Kamskis used to run this entire fucking river and he wasted all of it because his ego got too big-- to big to think ahead, too big to think anyone did other than absolutely worship him, too big to think he could get caught, betrayed,  _ killed.  _ He didn’t want to see things with reason so… he had to go. The only thing special about him was his inexplicable ability to fuck things up and blame someone else.”

“My brother… isn’t like that. He’s married. He loves his wife and… and his daughter. His business is simple and he doesn’t bother anyone. He… deserves to move on and be happy with her instead of… instead of hang on to me after I’m gone. He needs… he should know. He deserves to close this part of his life, to be told to not get involved and focus on his family. He deserves better than I’ve ever been able to give him. Please… don’t make him wait forever for me when we both know that I’ll never come.”

Reed squats in front of him, meeting his eyes with an expression like kindness in them. When Connor would see this expression on Reed’s face before, it used to make him love him. Now, it just makes him sad. “You took care of him all your life, didn’t you?”

“I will until I die and after,” Connor says as evenly as he can.

“Now  _ that _ is loyalty. I knew you were capable of it, Connor.” 

Next thing he knows, he’s being released from his chair. “Let’s go to a hotel,” Reed says calmly. “I think you’ve earned yourself a good time.”

* * *

 

The hotel is in Chicago and opulent, as most places Gavin stays are. It’s the kind of suite that costs a month’s rent per night and has a view of the entire city.

Connor wraps his arms around himself as he stares out the balcony, his red wrists aching but his heart pounding too hard for him to notice as he waits for Reed to be ready.

“Get this off, beautiful,” the honey-poison-smoke voice says in his ear. He shrugs out of the hoodie he’s borrowed to walk into the hotel without drawing attention. Now shirtless, he shivers, but he still follows that by shucking off his pants, leaving himself completely bare.

“Commando? Mmm.” Reeds hand kneads at Connor’s ass, causing him to moan quietly, pressing back into his hand. He gives in quickly to Reed’s hands on his body and Reed’s lips on his neck, only because there’s a strange sort of high that comes with know that you’re going to die today, potentially soon, and that this man he’s pined after for so long ia giving in to him because of the same reason.

He wishes they’d had more time.

He turns into Reed’s arms, presses their bodies close together, revels in Reed’s warmth, and the smell of his custom cologne, and the tiny ridge on his jaw where he got cut with a knife during a bar fight when he was a teenager. He pretends they’re happy like this, tells himself that he’s giving himself away because he can. 

Reed loves marking his skin. He bites and nips, leaves sucking, bruising kisses all over Connor’s neck and shoulders, and Connor sighs and moans into every last one of them until their lips meet, and then he is finally lost to complete pleasure.

Reed is the perfect kisser. He seeks out Connor’s tongue gently—not too much, pulls gently at Connor’s lips until they’re puffy and bright pink and Connor finds himself completely drunk on Reed’s taste, his sight lost to the colorful anticipation exploding into happy stars behind his eyelids, his fingers tangled between Reed’s own on one hand, and Reed’s hair on the other.

He presses their palms together too, feeling the warmth that builds between them and watching as it softens the expression on Reed’s face into something thoughtful and almost loving.

_ Almost. _

Connor is the one that surges forward now, taking those expert lips, telling himself that almost isn’t enough. He’ll get Reed to admit before he dies that he wanted this, too.

Connor feels himself being lifted—he always wondered what it felt for his thin body to be simply lifted and taken to bed by Reed’s strong arms—and he lands on the soft, luxury pillows and blankets with a moan.

Reed has moved on from his lips to his neck, nipping his way down to his chest. Connor yelps when his tongue flicks mercilessly at the tiny, peachy-pink flesh on his left nipple. “Oh—God,” he whimpers. “God, Gavin,  _ more _ .”

“More, baby?” Reed purrs, his breath washing over the sensitive peak. He takes it between his teeth and pulls just a little bit. Connor can’t tell whether he wants to arch and press his nipples into Reed’s face or just scream for his life, so he does both.

Reed mercifully goes back to flicking his tongue at it, circling it and then pressing the flat of his tongue over it. He reaches down between them, timing each flick of his tongue with a gentle stroke of Connor’s achingly hard shaft.

Connor’s hips meet his every stroke almost subconsciously, and Reed’s expression softens again. “You… really are beautiful.”

Connor’s eyes shoot open, his expression shocked and confused, but that only lasts a second before Reed’s mouth covers his again. Connor pushes all of his emotion into the kiss—his fear and his sadness, his elation that he finally gets to have this. He’s rewarded with the taste of salt. 

Reed allows himself one tear, just one, for having to take away something so bright and lovely from this shitty, dark world.

He admits that Connor is bright and lovely. They met entirely by chance, Connor rushing to buy some coffee before some exam or something, burdened with notes, textbooks and a computer bag. He gave Connor his card because he had the strange need to pick the younger man’s brain, to find out more about him. Reed always gets what he wants.

They hung out a few times—sailing on Memorial Day, and again for July 4th, Reed saw how Connor laughed, how he entertained his more sophisticated friends with his intelligence and natural poise and diction. He found out Connor was studying to be a lawyer. He’d make a good one. He had a sharp mind and a strong sense of a good argument. Reed brought him around more and more until they were joined at the hip.

Reed had mapped the young student’s body a dozen times in his mind, but never like this. He told himself a million times that it was best if they just stayed friends—put his hand down when it wanted to touch his face, closed his mouth when it wanted to utter the words, “let’s go for dinner, just us.” He’d defeated ever urge he had to take this beautiful man apart under him. Until today. Until now.

He defeats the urge to let him live the same way he did every other urge to make Connor his. It’s too late now, anyway. Pretty snitches can still feed the river fishes. Just as well as the ugly ones.That’s all Connor is now. A pretty—lovely, beautiful, charming, well-spoken—snitch. But a snitch, just the same. This is goodbye and nothing more.

Reed convinces himself of this as he explores further down Connor’s lithe body… his abdominal muscles flutter under his tongue as he whimpers, “Gavin, oh—” and as his fingers thread into his hair, his legs wide apart and trembling with pleasure. Reed is sad he missed his opportunity.

Should another come, he won’t miss it. He’s learned his lesson.

Reed continues his path, lower and lower, enjoying how Connor keens under his tongue, the tickling sensation of it and his breaths causing him to quiver. Oh, he would love to get to know everything that makes this body fall apart, every spot that makes this body moan, shake, cry out. 

He wishes they’d had more time.

Connor’s cock is throbbing when he reaches it. He laps and sucks his way town from the uncircumcised tip to the pulsing, thick base. He’s pleasantly surprised by the girth of it, but he continues licking downwards, down and down until he can taste Connor’s heavy balls and Connor’s breaths hitch.

“You like that, baby?” He takes one into his mouth and then the other, smiling around them at the way Connor groans in response. He licks his way lower, pushing Connor’s legs apart as he flicks the tip of his tongue at Connor’s taint and down to his hole, which spasms under his tongue. “You taste so sweet, baby.” Reed tells him.

Connor gasps as he feels Reed’s tongue against him, inside him, so warm and strong, moving so expertly and intimately. His whole body tenses, releases, tenses, releases. Shakes. He bites his lip, but the sharp moment of pain doesn’t distract him from the maddening sensation that is making his entire body haywire. He moves his tongue until that perfect little ring is wet and pink, begging to be entered, which Reed obliges with his tongue, the desperate moans cascading around him as he works his tongue in.

Reed delivers a sharp nip to Connor’s inner thigh the moment one finger pushes in, the confusing sensation allowing him to push in deep before Connor’s body reacted, his ass clamping around his finger belatedly. He curls his finger just so, moving it in and out, focusing his tongue back on Connor’s cock. He can’t help his grin when Connor’s hands fly into his hair.

He uses lube when he adds a second finger because he’s against the idea of hurting him too soon, making him tense or afraid. He wants this to be good. He wants Connor to want this, too. Reed may be a lot of things, but he doesn’t want to be a rapist. He will only do what Connor wants tonight. Connor doesn’t want pain.

_ He doesn’t want to die, either, but you’re still going to do that. _

Reed pushes the thought aside and focuses on working Connor open. Yes, he’s still going to do that. But it will be over quickly. No pain.

Still, he finds himself dragging out the time between now and that moment. Instead of adding a third finger, he teases Connor’s hole with just one. Instead of pushing inside of him and fucking him eight ways like he wants to, he works Connor’s shaft with his tongue until he spills with a grunt, his hips thrusting him up into Reed’s throat. Reed makes sure to swallow every drop, committing the taste to his memory. When he looks up to see Connor’s face, lovely, flushed, blissed from orgasm, his chest seizes.

He surges up, catching those lips with his, feeling him kiss back just as desperately. He can taste the hope on Connor’s tongue, and it makes him feel even more defeated. He wants to forget Connor ever betrayed him, forget how much he’s going to have to clean up after this. He wants to just take Connor away, maybe to Cancun again, and exist with him… somewhere they can be free together.

He’s admitted to himself that he loves Connor too late. It’s too late to save Connor or himself, or the feelings that are sparking between their lips and their skin, too late to rescue the chance at bliss that their bodies are chasing so desperately as they move together.

Connor is hard and leaking again, his whines and moans cutting through Reed effortlessly, driving him insane with lust, and grief. When he finally sinks into Connor’s heat, the throbbing of his cock intensified by the muscles of Connor’s perfect entrance locking around him again and again, he almost changes his mind.

Connor arches against him, his eyes searching out Reeds as they move. “Gavin?” he whispers.

Gavin shakes his head, blinks away the burning in his eyes.

“Gav, please,” he whispers, reaching up and winding his fingers into Reed’s hair, tugging gently until their eyes meet.

Reed grinds his teeth and looks, feeling angry about all of this. He takes Connor’s wrists and pins them down, hard enough to bruise them. Neither one cares. Reed moves faster, harder, until Connor’s face begins to twist--pain. Connor pulls on his wrists--neither budges. He tries to find Reed’s eyes again as they turn away, but he can’t.

Connor’s body seizes as he comes again, pleas falling from his lips--for more of this, for his life, for Reed’s anger to dissipate, he doesn’t know. Maybe for all three. He gets one of three, though, because when he says, “Gav… please look at me,” Reed’s expression softens again, and he lets go of Connor’s hands. Still moving inside of him, Reed pushes sweat-slicked hair away from that pretty face, caresses it, leans down to trail feather-light kisses on it that Connor delights in.

With his body spent, Connor’s oversensitive prostate zings in protest when Reed movies, and he barely strangles a scream in his throat. “Ohff--” he’s lost to the pain-pleasure sensation after that, his nerves burning and his voice hoarse. “Gavin,” he sobs, “Gavin, I love you.”

Maybe it is what Reed needed, or maybe it is just a coincidence, but the words send Reed hurdling into oblivion, his body jerking as he spills into his condom. 

When it’s over, Connor curls onto his side, somehow both afraid and resigned. Reed can’t help himself, he pulls the other man into his arms, soothing his hair as they quietly breathe together.

“Don’t forget me,” Connor pleads in a whisper, and tears seep onto Reed’s skin. “Gavin, please… don’t forget me.”

“I won’t,” Reed promises. 

He waits until Connor is asleep. Then he wraps one hand around his throat, the other around his head. And he twists.

* * *

“Lieutenant, you made it. The victim is male, early or mid twenties. Neck’s broken. No ID.”

He didn't need the ID. would recognize that brown hair anywhere.

“It looks like he was having the time of his life before he got taken out. Coroner thinks it happened around 12 hours ago. Housekeeping found him and called the local PD. Intelligence cops recognized his face--apparently someone is working the Kamski mob here, recognized this person from your persons of interest and called us up.”

“Can I have a minute?” 

“Oh—of course, Lieutenant. I didn’t stop to think…”

“Alright.” Anderson swallows hard as he takes in the scene… no blood, thank God. He doesn’t think he could have handled seeing this person’s body defiled in the way that the Kamski mob did their victims.

The hotel room is bright, airy, obviously expensive. The balcony door is open, a slight breeze lifting the corners of nearby curtains. There are pajama pants still on the floor there, next to a belt and a pristine white button up. It’s the only thing out of place in this area of the suite. 

The bedroom is different. The bed is absolutely defiled—comforters on the floor, and blankets kicked to a corner. Still tangled in the sheets is the body of the sweet, wholesome young law-school student, the the boy whose heart he’d had to break to get any leads on the Phillips murders. His dark brown hair is still mussed, his mouth still pink, eyes gently closed, his eyelashes resting as if he were just asleep. He half expects Connor to get up and look for breakfast, realize he’s naked, and scream at everyone to get the fuck out. But the ugly, purple-black marks on his throat, and the odd twist of his neck are stark reminders that he will never get up, speak, move, love again.

He tells himself that the boy couldn’t be saved, that he was already in too deep, but he can’t help the knowledge that he’d been the one that tipped the much younger man over the edge. He gets confirmation of that when a closer look reveals that his tongue is completely missing from his mouth.

_ Snitch. _

He can’t handle looking anymore. He steps back into the hallway, his nails biting in to his palms. Collins asks him what’s wrong, but he just brushes past him, going back to his car. He drives all the way home with his teeth clenched. He’ll have to tell this boy’s only family that he failed him, and he doesn’t want to acknowledge his failure.

No, he wants to drink to it instead.

_ To Connor, _ he says with his first double of whiskey.  _ To doing the right thing,  _ he toasts with his second. By the third, he drinks straight from the bottle, staring at the photo of his boy, Cole, his young, sparkling blue eyes mockingly full of life even as crime scene images of a dead young man plague his memory. 

_ Rest in peace, kid,  _ he toasts with the last drops in the bottle. _ Rest in peace. _

 

**Author's Note:**

> did you guess it? If you did, tell me the line in the comments down below. Or if you just want to reeeeEEEEEEEEEEE at me that's fine too. tissues to your left. 
> 
> sooooo that was rough. I would say I'm sorry but I'm not. *shrug* I have happier things for you to check out if you need some cheering up. There's the time Gavin hit on a police officer to prove his innocence, there's the time Gavin fell in love with his partner, and there's of course, the time Connor had a one-night stand that blew his everlasting mind. You can check all those out by clicking on my pen name.
> 
> thanks for reading! y'all rock
> 
> <3Daisy


End file.
